Hope Dies in the Silence

Love is born of strength...not weakness. It does not seek out opportunity in spite of truth. Admiration, lust, longing, mere facets of a power that proved too much for lonely hearts seeking connection to validate the worth they can only give themselves.

Now the martyr rises. High on his horse of ignorance. Heaven painted with a perception so flawed, the lack of sight makes Cupid tremble. The white knight, blind to his selfishness, continues to paint the sky, oblivious to the bristles he stands upon, cutting its canvas with the rust of what never was.

The queen remains naked. Exposed. A never ending jury condemning her for her silence. For a story she will never tell, a truth he is not strong enough to hear.  Her coiffures depleted, she can no longer buy her way into the delusion, left only with his refusal to listen. To hear her cries, before offering a rescue she never wanted. She bleeds out in a cell of her own making, understanding love should never lead to fear. 

Two broken hearts could never make one whole.  Loneliness does nothing more than make a mockery of love. Desperation is a wicked tool when wielded against the weak.

Hope dies in the silence.

Natasha Head